


Evenstar

by freezeveganpolice



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-01 21:18:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5221157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freezeveganpolice/pseuds/freezeveganpolice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sorey has been in love with Mikleo for as long as he can remember, but it isn't easy to grow and change alongside a literally inhumanly beautiful boy.</p>
<p>Heavily inspired by that LOTR Aragorn/Arwen post, hence the fic title.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Evenstar

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Tale of Aragorn and Arwen](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/155459) by notbecauseofvictories. 



Sorey starts saying that he loves Mikleo when they’re barely four years old. He doesn’t just mean it in a friendly way. He means it in as sincere a romantic way as a four-year-old boy can. The other seraphim in Elysia laugh it off – it’s adorable, honestly, to watch this chubby, wide-eyed human toddling around after the slightly ganglier and already radiant seraph child. The two of them only know what they’ve read of love, or, more accurately, what they’ve heard in the stories Gramps has read to them. But Sorey, at age five, is 100% certain that he loves Mikleo. And he isn’t shy about it. 

Mikleo, for his part, is a little more reserved. He doesn’t know quite how to feel. But he doesn’t want Sorey to feel alone, nor does he want to be without him, so he smiles and nods. 

And then they’re ten years old, both longer of leg but Mikleo still taller, sleeker somehow. Sorey has yet to grow completely out of his baby fat – his cheeks are still round, his hair hangs in a bowl around his face with leaves constantly sticking out of it – but Mikleo is as beautiful as ever, with his delicate limbs and porcelain features and silver-blue waves of hair. Even the disastrous haircut Sorey gives him when they’re eleven is not enough to make him any less inhumanly stunning. 

It only gets worse when they’re thirteen. Sorey grows a foot taller in the span of six months, shooting past Mikleo and transitioning from an awkward messy child into an even more awkward gangly teenager with zits and hormones that no one can explain to him and _god_ there is no way he’s going to explain his newfound urges to the seraphim. He stays in his house as much as he reasonably can. 

He can barely look Mikleo in the eye anytime the seraph comes over, asking if he wants to go hunting for boars. Sorey can’t go hunting for boars. If they go hunting for boars, he has to watch Mikleo move like the water he embodies, has to see the sun glinting off his hair, the sunlight reflected in the purple of his eyes. There is no way. Just thinking about him, the way they used to bathe together in the streams of the nearby forest, what that might possibly look like, let alone feel like, _now_ – Sorey buries his head in his books and does not emerge for what feels, to Mikleo, like it might actually be years. 

Of course, when they’re fifteen, Sorey can’t contain it any longer. Mikleo has grown as well, albeit slower, but he hasn’t had to go through any of the terrors of human puberty. Seraphim don’t need to, after all – most of them just spring into existence, or re-emerge as seraphim after a long life of human existence. The rare ones who are born or turned as infants, like Mikleo, have no need of such an undignified transition. They go seamlessly from child to adolescent to adult. No mess, no acne, no nightly distractions. 

“Can I kiss you?” Sorey blurts out. His limbs are still too long for his body, still take up so much room relative to the rest of him that he doesn’t quite know where to put them. He is like a newborn deer, big-eyed and shaky as Mikleo leans in, smirking, and offers Sorey his cheek. Sorey presses one hasty kiss to Mikleo’s cheek, and then bounds away, completely unable to do or say anything for a few days as he thinks and rethinks and overthinks the whole affair. _Did he not want to kiss, is it just me, is a cheek a rejection or am I just losing it, he still respects me and we’re still friends of course but what if it’s all different now and that’s all my fault?_

It is no different. Mikleo is as calm as still water, and learns that it is better not to touch or tease Sorey for a while.

By the time they are seventeen, Sorey has gained some control over himself, enough to be able to start tickling Mikleo again. The idea of touching him no longer sends his rampant teenage hormones into an uncontrollable frenzy, even if it does still make his heart jump. Mikleo grins and teases and tickles back, glad that things can return to the way they were for so many years.

When they embark on their journey, they have less time alone. At first Sorey is talking constantly with Alisha, and Mikleo feels a strange pang of what must be jealousy. Couldn’t he talk with both of them? Mikleo loves archaeology as well, and would love to talk about ruins. It only hurts more when Sorey denies him a chance at becoming Lailah’s Sub Lord, after so quickly agreeing to make Alisha his squire. Mikleo runs away, too angry and hurt and confused to properly face his friend. 

Those few days they spend apart are difficult for them both. Mikleo, still angry, is loathe to admit that he misses Sorey’s touch, the sound of his voice. He wants to tell Sorey that he’s sorry, but he still needs to go with him. He doesn’t care if it’s not safe, but he knows that Sorey won’t listen to words. Sorey needs actions. 

Sorey stares at the empty space in his room at the inn and wishes it were filled. Lailah does her best to comfort him, but it’s not the same. Nothing – no one – is the same. 

When they reunite, and Mikleo confronts them in the ruins with the divine artifact in his hand, some residual fury burning in his violet eyes, Sorey’s heart literally skips a beat. Even Mikleo’s anger is beautiful, a violently crashing waterfall that threatens to engulf Sorey completely. Sorey thinks he would happily drown in it. 

And then they armatize, and Sorey can feel every inch of Mikleo, they’re one and –

 Mikleo can literally feel the warmth Sorey feels for him. He can feel it melding with the cool water that always swirls through him, can watch it physically channel out through the bow and arrow in his – their – hands.

 And then they de-armatize and fall to the floor, laughing in wonder and soaking wet, and Mikleo watches as water drips down Sorey’s nose, catching the sunlight and sending sparkles over his green eyes. He notices, for the first time, the way Sorey’s shoulders have filled in, the distinct line of his jaw, the definition of his arms and chest that he can now see through his sopping wet shirt.

 And just like that Mikleo falls hard, and fast, and all he can think is, _Son of a bitch._

**Author's Note:**

> I'm forever entertained by the idea of Zenrus (RIP) trying to deal with Sorey going through puberty because like... how.... and then in the middle of giggling to myself about that I realized that this was definitely a thing. And I made a tumblr post joking about it. And then I actually wrote it. In about 20 minutes at 1am. So it's very rough.


End file.
